This is going to be another short post. There's not much to say about this mug other than the fact that I got it at Starbucks (and have no recollection of when or where) and it's exactly the kind of cheery-looking mug that's perfect for a winter's day.
As it turns out, I do NOT have a lot of stories set in January. Sound of a Voice That is Still is really all that comes to mind. But I guess that's kind of perfect given that Welcome to Oberon (the omnibus in which it's included) releases next week!
So, here's a brief excerpt from Sound and info on the collection--which happens to have one of my FAVORITE recent covers.
It was going to be another wild night. Ryan took note of the rising wind and the gathering clouds that signaled a new storm’s imminent approach. He picked up his pace. He wanted to take full advantage of the break in the weather and the fact that his leg was momentarily numb to work off the excess energy that still surged through his body in the aftermath of his treatment. And to work off some of the dog’s excess energy, as well.
A fitful, wet wind played havoc with the dog’s coat as Ryan tramped along behind her. She was clearly enjoying herself and seemed intent on exploring every inch of the winding path that edged the marina.
The air was brisk and invigorating. Ryan took several deep, grateful breaths. He was feeling better and more optimistic about his recovery than he had in several days. Who’d have guessed that anything as weird as acupuncture would be the only thing that offered even temporary relief? But at this point, he was willing to give almost anything a shot.
At the other end of the leash, the dog left off nosing at a couple of crabs that had been cast up on the rocks to growl menacingly at something on the beach below them. Ryan followed the direction of the dog’s gaze and was surprised to see a woman walking slowly through the shallow surf. Her head was downcast, and her eyes scanned the ground around her as though she were searching for something she’d lost along the shoreline.
She was carrying a five-gallon plastic bucket in each hand. As he watched, she stopped, put the pails down, and then bent to fumble with something at the edge of the waves. Water surged around her. What the hell was she doing down there? Ryan’s guts tightened with apprehension. The damn woman was likely to get herself drowned if she wasn’t careful.
“Hey!” he called to her, but she appeared not to hear him. She hauled a dripping object out of the water and dropped it carefully into one of the buckets. He called again, but she still took no notice of him, just went back to feeling around for something below the surface of the water.
Beside him, his dog set up a weird high-pitched howling, and that the woman did seem to hear. She straightened suddenly. To Ryan’s surprise, she turned to look not back towards the shore, but out to sea. He shook his head in annoyance. What in God’s name did she think she was going to find out there?
He watched as she scanned the horizon. She took a single step forward, and then another--as if she were searching for the source of the sound in the depths of the ocean. The wind whipped long strands of red hair across her face and she pushed at them with an impatient hand. Watching her, Ryan grew more and more uneasy. There was no way in hell he wanted to go down there, but he wasn’t a cop for nothing. And he couldn’t just walk away and leave her where she clearly had no business being.
She continued to stare into the distance, so heedless of the rising swells that broke around her that she was nearly knocked her off her feet by an especially large wave. That decided the matter for him. Cursing under his breath, he made his way down the rocky slope and splashed toward her.
“Excuse me, Ma’am,” he’d begun, when she staggered back a step at the impact of yet another swell. He grabbed her arm just above the elbow to keep her from falling.
She whirled around swiftly, not unbalanced at all now, arms and legs working in precise harmony to sweep his feet out from under him. In the next instant he was on his ass in the water. Pain shot up his spine from the rocks he’d landed on. He was aware of a cold, wrenching sensation in his injured leg. Oh, fuck, that could not be good.
“You!” She stared at him, an expression of shock on her face. “But, what—” With a flash of copper fur, his dog erupted out of nowhere and barreled straight into the woman. And then she was no longer towering over him, but glaring back at him from eye level, as the dog romped around between them barking excitedly.
“Oh, Christ. Not you again?” Ryan groaned. He recognized her now, and an incontrovertible feeling of doom settled over him. Things would never come easy for him and this woman, nor ever run smooth. He knew it in an instant and could only wonder that he hadn’t figured it out the very first time they’d met. Things between them would not be simple, or straightforward, or even sane. In the long run, they’d be lucky if they didn’t drive each other nuts.
He should be running like hell to get away from her. But in his present condition, running anywhere was a non-option. Instead, he found himself wondering how long it would take him to get her to smile this time, or if she’d even smile at all?
“Just what in the hell were you trying to do?” Siobhan demanded. “And how dare you sneak up on me like that!”
Both the Quinn sisters could have benefited from a little of his father’s philosophy, Ryan decided. His father had been a firm follower of the Yoda School of Thought. Do. Or do not. There is no try. It was a lesson he’d had drummed into his head at an early age.
“I wasn’t trying to do anything,” he informed her crossly. “My objective was to keep you from drowning yourself.”
She looked startled. “Drowning myself? But, I wasn’t— shit!” She broke off as another wave crashed over them.
The sea was getting rougher by the minute. Ryan suppressed a shiver as the wind sliced through his wet clothes. Enough of this chitchat. He had to get them both out of this water. Right now.
“Sonofabitch,” she spluttered as his dog licked helpfully at her face and dripping hair. “Can’t you at least control your dog?” She tried pushing the dog away, but it wouldn’t be budged. “And I was not trying to drown myself, you idiot. For your information, I happened to be working.”
Working? That was a good one. “Oh, yeah? Nice job you got,” he sneered, barely even listening to her as he felt around on the slippery rocks; trying to find the purchase he’d need to lever himself to his feet. “Never mind that now. Can you get up?” He wasn’t altogether certain he could.
“Well, of course I can— wait.” She lifted one dripping foot. “Where’d my boot go?”
He nodded at the black object floating on the surf. “There it is. No!” he ordered, as she started to get up. “Just stay where you are. I’ll get it.”
There was no way in hell he was going to let her go stumbling around in the water barefoot. She’d likely twist her ankle, or maybe cut her foot open on a piece of shell. And he seriously doubted whether he could carry her any distance. He heaved himself to his feet. Not too bad, he thought, pleased that his leg didn’t immediately give out.
“Thank you,” Siobhan said quietly when he’d retrieved her boot for her. He extended a hand towards her. After a moment’s hesitation, she took it. His hand was wet and cold, just like her own. It was probably as numb as her own, too, she thought.
She was conscious of a faint sense of disappointment as her fingers closed around his. She felt as though she’d grasped nothing more animate than a piece of hard rubber. But she was altogether too uncomfortably aware of his strength as he hauled her to her feet. She’d been lucky, knocking him off balance like she had. Or maybe lucky wasn’t the right word, either. She was a little embarrassed that she’d gone right into attack mode, without taking the time to assess the situation. But he’d startled her, and she’d reacted without thinking.
She shoved her foot back into her wet boot and reached for the buckets, intending to pour off a little of the excess water they contained.
“Leave those,” he ordered, brusquely.
She turned to stare at him, embarrassment and concern incinerating in a flash of amazed fury. Just who the hell did he think he was, giving her orders? “No, I will not leave them! I’ve gone to a lot of trouble collecting this stuff. They’re coming with me.”
“Look, the tide’s coming in fast and the temperature’s dropping. We need to get off this beach and out of this weather. Now. Hypothermia is nothing to play around with, you know. Anything that slows us down too much could be deadly. Besides, those rocks up there are dangerous. You could easily twist your ankle if you tried to carry anything over them.”
“Oh, really?” She glared at him. She was well aware of the tides and the temperature and the dangers of hypothermia. And as far as the rocks went, “Listen, you, I can keep my footing up there just fine. Probably better than you can, in fact.”
“Yeah? I’ll be the judge of that,” he said sullenly, twisting the handles out of her hands. “Give them to me, then. I’ll take them. You go up first.”
She continued to stare coldly at him, as she tried to get her temper under control. Then, just as she was about to mention the gently graded trail that she planned on taking up from the beach, his scowl deepened.
“Well, what’re you waiting for?” he asked. “Let’s move it!”
She shrugged. “Fine. Have it your way.”
She turned and scrambled up the embankment. Let him carry them, then. The stupid ass. Let him carry the buckets and the weight of all that extra water right up over the rocks, if that was what he wanted to do. With any luck, he’d give himself a hernia. She reached the path with relative ease, and stood there, shivering with cold, as she watched his laborious ascent.
“Jesus, what in God’s name do you have in here?” he muttered when he’d finally reached the top. “Rocks?”
She smiled at him sweetly. “Yes. Exactly.”
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